The old man in the game, 35-year-old Shaquille O'Neal, attempted to comically shake his young defender, Mehmet Okur, with a nasty crossover dribble. This was the equivalent of a South Florida grandmother trying to fit her 85-year-old bones into Spandex.
Some things no longer fit, and as Shaq's jumper clanged off the back iron it became hilariously clear at the 56th NBA all-star game: this league is for the very young.
It's Kobe Bryant's now. And Dwyane Wade's. It belongs to Bron-Bron and Gil the Thrill and Dirk and Melo and all the people who don't have to hear "post-Jordan" anymore.
Michael wasn't an icon to be unfairly compared with this weekend; he was merely a harsh judge for a watered-down dunk contest.
Indeed, one of the more disheartening developments was the mid-life crises facing the disgrunt-a-Bulls. Jordan shows up in a leather jacket and jeans on Saturday night, looking way too casual next to the immaculately dressed Julius Erving and fellow judges. He proceeds to dole out ridiculously low scores — 7s and 8s — for thrill-seeking youngsters attempting feats above the rim neither he nor Larry Nance imagined. The French judge gave more love to the Canadian skaters than Michael gave to the young skywalkers.
Then Scottie Pippen comes back for a meaningless skills competition and decides his spindly, old bones are ready to help the Spurs, Heat or the Cavaliers win the NBA title. Memo to Scottie: There used to be a good lunch run at the Sports Club on M Street. We'll get you a guest pass.
Even Magic got in the "In-my-day" act.
"It's a shame that these young players don't understand that the reason they're making $15 million to $20 million a year is because of a lot these guys in the room," Magic Johnson said during his moving speech at the legends breakfast Sunday morning. Bill Russell, Dr. J, the Iceman and a ballroom of more than 2,000 applauded loudly.
He was right, of course, and his words illuminate a new reality for the NBA. There are two All-Star Weekends now; the P. Diddy-Prince-Shakira spectacle, that unending quest to find the right party, to worship at the temple of black wealth and royalty while simultaneously hoping LeBron notices you in the lobby. And the alternative experience, involving the deeper connections developed because of the game — the lasting relationships that melds the old heads and the new-jack kids together each February to celebrate their good fortune.
Occasionally, a player such as Bryant bridges the gap. One moment, he levitates, smiles and dunks for the current consumers. The next, he speaks eloquently from a podium about the old ABA while the legends honor the defunct league.
Unlike Tyrus Thomas, who picked up his $16,000 check for the dunk contest but had to give $10,000 back to the Bulls (who rightly fined their money-grubbing rookie), Kobe gets it.
Yet the profound disconnect between old and young is there, a generational chasm that keeps widening. The best news all weekend were the increased pensions finally given to deserving pioneers who played before 1965. Between Steve Nash's party and Kenny Smith's bash and Tracy McGrady's shindig, the people who made this possible finally got theirs.
The game once again disappointed greatly. I've been to 10 of these events the past 12 years and remember two decent competitions and much more hideous basketball. Gilbert Arenas had a very pedestrian night, scoring eight points. There were George Foreman Grills hotter than the Hibachi last night.
As for the Vegas experience as a whole? Too much. Too many people. Too many poseurs trying to hang with the potentates. Too much of everything in the alleged entertainment capital of the world. Hate to admit it, but there can be too much NBA excess.
No use debating whether Las Vegas deserves a team. Within three years, it will have one. That team will almost certainly be the Sacramento Kings.
Technically, the Maloof brothers are saying they want a new arena. Ideally, they want to be in Las Vegas. Their cash cow — the Palms Hotel & Casino — is here. Their long-term business interests — cross-promoting accommodations with game tickets — are here. And, they'll never say this, but their heart is here. Vegas reminds them more of their New Mexico roots than Sacramento.
So David Stern and friends will be back soon. By then the kids will be grown up and everyone will search for the next Kobe, the next Shaq, the next wunderkind to pick up the torch and fly.
In a league so young and often so serious, it was only appropriate that O'Neal. lent his own little sense of playfulness to the event. He dunked over McGrady and then smooched him on the top of his head before he ran upcourt in the first half. During an all-star weekend that still needs work, Tim Hardaway, thankfully, was not here to comment.
